


Haunt Me

by Luneth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ghosts, Haunted Houses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luneth/pseuds/Luneth
Summary: They called the house haunted. Cronus called it cheap, and he wasn't going to let a few frights and near death experiences shake him. But why did the ghost seem to be trying to help and kill him at the same time?A prompt that got a little carried away.





	1. Moving in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aquatarius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/gifts).



> This was originally a prompt for "Haunt me" BroDual. But it got so long I figured I'd post it separately.
> 
> Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character watching over another [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cronus meets a ghost or two.

“Haunted” was the word everyone used to describe the house, usually with hushed whispers and nervous looks. To Cronus, that word was a direct translation to “Cheap.” He had gotten a hell of a deal on it.

It’s not that he was completely sure ghosts didn’t exist, but no ghost was going to chase him out of this steal. He’d even done some research about the house’s past. It was hard to avoid it, really. The place was infamous. Apparently, some guy had brought home some possessed doll, and it eventually drove him insane and he tried to kill his son. His wife shot him dead in self-defense, but he puppet was never found. It wasn’t even a good ghost story. He could have at least succeeded in killing his family before croaking.

The neighbors were a nosy sort. One old woman even arrived at his door, tears in her eyes blubbering about how she couldn’t bear to see the ambulances pull up again and pull some mangled something-something-something Cronus closed the door.

He wasn’t even fully moved in before the weird shit started. Lights flickering, things falling off the shelves, all those things. He grumbled and banged the roof a few times with the end of a broom to tell them to cut it out.

Heading to his bedroom for the night, he felt a breath of air rush past him and suddenly there was a note pasted to the bedroom door. An eerie creature with a white face, a puppet-like hinged mouth, and bloody holes for eyes stared at him out of the paper. There was text sloppily smeared over it.

 

_I want to play a game._

“So pull out a monopoly board!” Cronus growled out loud and tore the paper down. “And it’s too late for games. I’m goin to bed.”

The night was not restful. He kept hearing the most obnoxious laughter. First it was “hee hee hee,” then as he was just drifting off there was a “hoo hoo hoo,” then after he banged on the walls a few times it was quiet for a bit, then suddenly a rancorous “AHAHAHAHAHA” shook the room and made him bolt up in bed.

“SHUT **UP**!” He snarled. “I’LL CALL A GODDAMN EXORCIST SO HELP ME IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP!”

The laughter didn’t start again, but that night he dreamed of a maniacal grin in the darkness, taunting him. With snarls of frustration he chased it. It floated in and out of his vision but he was too stubborn to give up on it, even when the ground began to ooze red with blood and he thought he heard footsteps following behind him.

He broke into a run. He was **not** going to let some half-assed ghost be the end of him. He’d wrap his hands around this stupid thing’s ethereal neck himself if that’s what it took.

A white cloth face bloomed up in front of him, blowing up like a balloon to grin down at him as deafening laughter crashed down on him from all sides. Cronus snarled and shoved his hands into the face, ripping it apart.

For the briefest second, he swore he saw the silhouette of a man, then he was catapulted backwards and jerked up in bed with a start. All around him, words had been scrawled on the walls in something that looks suspiciously like blood.

 

_I’LL GET YOU._

_SOON._

_YOU CAN’T ESCAPE._

_HEEHEEEHOOOHAAAAA_

 

That was going to take **forever** to wash out. Cronus groaned and massaged his face with his hands. He got out of bed and headed into the bathroom. This thing was probably going to be a pain. And it **had** managed to off the previous tenants. Maybe he’d call Kurloz for advice.

There was more writing on the mirror. He didn’t bother reading it and instead opened the cabinet.

He blinked, then scowled.

 

_HURTSSOCRAZYSTOPINMYHEADLAUGHINGSTOPITHELPGOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAY_

 

He ran a hand down the writing on the inside of the door. What had caught his eye was the neon orange color. It was a really irritating hue, actually.

“You want help or to kill me?” He muttered and closed the cabinet. The mirror revealed the figure of a man standing behind him. He swore and slammed his hand down on the rim of the sink as he whirled around. No one was there, of course. His lip curled back in disgust at himself and he rolled his eyes.

Things were, eerily quiet as he made the trip from his bedroom to the kitchen. He glanced around suspiciously, but found nothing out of place.

It was only his old army instincts that saved him when he opened the fridge door. He scrambled to the side as a cascade of swords crashed down onto the floor, probably scuffing it up something fierce.

“Oh come **on** ,” He breathed, then sat up and began to shuffle through them. They looked pretty old, but a stray movement of his hand quickly had him sucking at the fresh cut on his finger. Still sharp, then.

A flash of white caught his eye, and he very carefully moved the blades aside to take a peek. There was a note, again written in bright orange text.

 

_You should leave._

 

“Fat chance,” He muttered and turned away to stand up.

Writing covered the walls and cupboards all around him. Not orange, back to the sloppy bloodlike style.

 

_YOU CAN’T LEAVE._

_I ALWAYS WIN THE GAME._

_THIS IS MY GAME._

_I WILL KILL YOU._

 

“OH YEAH?” He shouted back and raised his arms up. “I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU FUCKING TR-” He yelped and ducked as a kitchen knife zipped over his head to bury itself in the far wall.

 _“Oh the kid gloves are **off** now.” _ Cronus growled and stood up slowly. Kurloz was into this occult shit. All Cronus had to do was contact him without the house catching on, then-

Something was reflected in the oven window. He squinted at it, trying not to make it look too obvious. It was the orange text again.

 

_Dig it up._

 

000

 

He found it, taking a jackhammer he borrowed from Horuss and a sturdy shovel, he dug into the basement until he uncovered it. It was a puppet, filthy and ragged, but its bright blue eyes and creepy smile remained clear as day.

He didn’t take any chances. Rather than burn it himself, he sent it off to Damara, who promised she could destroy it properly. His first choice was Kurloz, but the weirdo might just keep it.

The night after she sent back photos of its charred remains, he fell asleep quickly in a silent house. In his dreams, he stood in a foyer. After a few seconds, he recognized it as **his** foyer, but with different furniture and a change of wallpaper. Another man stood in front of him. He was tall, with fair hair peeking out under an orange ballcap. His eyes were obscured by a pair of black, ridiculous-looking shades.

The man dug his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Thanks,” He said, then Cronus found himself lying in bed, staring up at his bedroom ceiling.

He figured that was the end of that. He finished unpacking, cleaned up all the gunk on the wall. He even had a chat with the old woman neighbor, once she got over the shock of seeing him a week later, watering his lawn.

Then one day, he sat on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table and eating chips as he watched TV. The channel changed, flickering to some weird anime. Cronus scowled, then glanced at the remote to make sure it was where he left it. He grabbed it and flicked the channel back. He got to enjoy about 7 more seconds of his show before it changed back to the magical girl with the talking panda. He glared down at the remote, wondering if a button was stuck.

He heard crunching to the right of him. Someone was eating his chips, and it wasn’t him. Slowly, he put the remote down, then turned to look.

It almost looked like a trick of the light, but Cronus could just make out a wavering, blurry image of a man. His legs were also propped up on the coffee table, and one pale arm was draped over the couch back. The ghost appeared to be staring ahead at the show, but he nodded to Cronus. Cronus scowled and dropped the remote down on his lap.

“I thought I passed you on or something.”

The ghost raised one finger, and orange text began to write itself on the wall over the TV.

 

_Freed me._

_Decided to stick around for the Hell of it._

Cronus crossed his arms. “I was kinda hoping for single occupancy.” The orange text erased itself and was replaced by more.

 

_You can’t say you were expecting that when you first moved here._

_You were given all the warnings, man._

_All of them._

_Pretty ballsy of you to take on Cal like that._

Cronus snorted and waved a hand at him. “I’ve fought in **wars**. Ghosts ain’t gonna be taking me down.”

 

_Then I’m sure you can take on little spirit that means no harm, right?_

It was impossible to make out anything distinct on the ghost’s face, but somehow Cronus knew, he just **knew** , that he was smirking. With a grunt of disgust Cronus grabbed a handful of chips before his new roommate ate them all.

“Can we **at least** not watch…whatever this is?”

_History documentaries are boring._

“They are not.”

_How about a compromise. Historical anime?_

“Fuck no. I learned my lesson after Hetalia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cal's text is red basically because I felt like it should be. Hush.
> 
> I often have Dirk try to get his friends to watch anime, or compromise with anime that match their interests.


	2. Settling in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cronus and Dirk talk about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro can be such a little shit, but also helpful sometimes.

Eventually, Cronus got used to the ghost, who told him one day in the bathroom mirror that his name was Dirk. Dirk wasn’t exactly a model ghost. He liked to move stuff around occasionally, or turn the lights out when Cronus was in the bathroom. He did stop putting swords in the fridge, at least.

Cronus started leaving bottle of orange soda in the fridge for him, and they disappeared. When Kurloz came over, the house was eerily silent, though when Horuss visited suddenly all the bare surfaces were covered with antique horse figurines.

“Is this house-” Horuss hesitantly reached out to touch one of the figurines, then flinched when it scooted away from him. “-haunted?”

 “More like I’ve got one hell of an annoying pet,” Cronus grumbled as he shoved the horses aside to put his beer down.

Then one night Cronus woke up gasping like a fish out of water, awoken by dreams that had nothing to do with ghosts, aside from the ones of his past. The sound of gunfire and bombs shook through his bones. He tried to swallow, couldn’t breathe.

Callused hands settled on his arm and shoulder. The lights flickered on and the window opened to let the night breeze in. The hands resting on him moved to gently run down his back and ruffle through his hair. Cronus took several slow, heaving breathes, then swallowed. He noticed his record player had started on its own, filling the room with quiet classic rock.

After a few minutes, a piece of scrap paper on his desk floated around to face him, and glowing orange text appeared on it.

 

_You’ve fought in wars, huh?_

 

“Shut up,” Cronus growled, “I’m fine.”

 

_Sure._

 

The text erased itself, then more appeared.

 

_How about a PTSD dog?_

“I’m allergic.” Cronus rolled over to stare up at the ceiling. “Turn the lights back off.”

The lights flickered off, but more glowing text wrote itself on the ceiling right above him.

 

_You sure you’re ok?_

 

“Yeah, it just happens sometimes.” Cronus rested his hands on his chest. “…You had a son, didn’t ya?”

The window slammed shut and the record needle abruptly scratched off the disc. Cronus winced at the noise.

“Oy careful, those are old.”

 

_Just like you._

The ceiling gave him a witty retort, then rewrote again.

 

_How did you know about Dave?_

“Hard not to hear about the stories when buying a haunted house.”

There was a long pause, then the writing appeared again.

 

_Roxy always was a good shot and a quick thinker._

_That was ages ago. Dave should be in college now._

“I’ve got a son that age too,” Cronus murmured, “His name’s Eridan,” He paused, “…We don’t talk much.” He laughed faintly. “Heh, the kid doesn’t believe a single supernatural thing.”

 

_Shit, you should totally bring him over._

“Nah, I don’t want to go ruining our relationship any more than it is.”

_I promise I won’t kill him._

“Yeah right.” Cronus rolled over. “…You want me to look him up? This Dave guy?” He got another long pause. “…Dirk?” He rolled back to look around the room for any more orange text, but the room was dark. Cronus grumbled something under his breath, then lay back and closed his eyes.

His dreams were suspiciously tame, with heavy influences of whatever latest anime Dirk had forced him to watch, and horses. Why so many horses for God’s sake? He woke up to sunlight filtering into his room, and his alarm blaring. With a grunt, he rolled over to shut it off.

Sitting on the bedside table, the scrap of paper now held several names, and a phone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I feel like this could have become an entire longer story but no I can't. I'm sorry.
> 
> Bro was married to Momlonde I guess but I dunno what kind of relationship they REALLY had. Maybe it was a "Turns out I'm gay but we can stay together as friends for the kids and the tax benefits I guess."


End file.
